Blackmail
by lovelunarchron
Summary: What might have happened if Cress had used her D-Comm chip to blackmail a hotshot spaceship pilot instead of trying to save the Emperor, as Thorne suggested.
1. Chapter 1

**_A long while later, Thorne finally spoke. "If I'd been in your position, _****_and I had only one D-COMM chip that I could use to communicate with Earth, I would have found some dirt on a hotshot spaceship pilot and blackmailed him into coming to get me out of that satellite, rather than trying to rescue the emperor."_ - Cress by Marissa Meyer, pg. 155  
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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

She'd done it. She had found a way to contact someone. Granted, it had taken more than six years, but the opportunity had finally presented itself.

Cress was going to escape the satellite.

The D-Comm chip that Mistress Sybil had asked her to configure for an unknown purpose was not quite complete, at least not in the way that her Mistress wanted it to be. But if Sybil Mira knew how to configure a D-Comm chip designed to spy on Earthens, Cress wouldn't have it in her possession right now. And she wouldn't have been able to change the coding to allow her to trick the D-Comm chip into thinking it was connected to a portscreen instead of its twin chip. A portscreen that happened to belong to an American fugitive by the name of Carswell Thorne.

He was going to be her ticket out of here.

This had been the hardest part, really—figuring out whose portscreen to connect to the signal emitted by the chip. Originally, she thought of trying to send a message to Emperor Rikan or Prince Kai. She knew though, from her own handiwork, that any communication with him would be watched by the thaumaturges and perhaps even the Lunar Queen herself. It was also unlikely that an Emperor would believe, let alone entertain an audience with, a common Lunar shell. Plus, she needed to get out of the satellite before Sybil could take control of the D-Comm chip again.

Without much knowledge of possible allies on Earth, Carswell Thorne had been a fairly easy choice, in the end. He was a fugitive of several Earthen nations because he was in possession of a stolen spaceship, which was exactly the type of vessel she needed in order to escape. He'd made news lately because people claimed that he had been spotted in the Eastern Commonwealth under a false identity. She knew that they were right—he was still there. In fact, she knew his exact location. She was surprised that he hadn't left the Eastern Commonwealth yet. Maybe he was trying to confuse them by staying exactly where was most obvious. Or, he was just an idiot. Cress was more convinced of the latter.

After studying his files very carefully, she'd tracked down where his real identity chip had gone off the grid. Then she'd followed the purchases and trading of black market ID chips that fit within the timeline and coordinates, as well as large money transactions and robberies that were characteristic to him. Then, once she'd figured out what his new identity was, she had linked it to his newest portscreen purchase. And she'd been reading his comms ever since.

Frankly, it had almost been too easy. If she ever made it out of the satellite, she should probably get a job in law enforcement, if not the spy business. Hacking was fun, and the Earthen militaries should really take advantage of her skills. She had always imagined herself winning awards for her talents, but it was hard to do that while trapped in orbit.

She needed to get Carswell's attention before he went and got himself thrown in jail. He was too obvious about what he stole, too clumsy in covering his tracks, and seemingly too happy to be infamous. Nobody could avoid getting caught forever. And she had caught him indeed. But instead of turning him in, he was going to come get her.

First, he needed some incentive.

Criminals were all the same—especially those who thought they were hotshots. They took and they took, and they always looked out for what was in it for them. He would never come get her just out of the goodness of her heart. He wouldn't take pity on a Lunar shell.

But he would respond to the need for self-preservation. Yes, she would see to that.

Carswell Thorne, she thought, you are _mine_.

* * *

><p>Thorne sat in his favorite restaurant in New Beijing, enjoying the latest variety of their famous pork buns, when he heard the ping of his portscreen go off.<p>

Strange. No one contacted him. In fact, no one should even be _able_ to contact him—he had seen to that. He needed to be the only one to initiate comms, after all, in order for no one to be able to trace him. Frowning, he hooked the port off his belt and stared down at the screen suspiciously.

_Incoming Comm from Damsel in Distress_

Damsel in Distress? What kind of code was that? He ignored it.

After a few minutes, it pinged again, displaying the same message. Then again, a third time. Curiosity getting the best of him, he finally accepted.

Propping the port on the table, he was surprised to find himself looking at a close-up of a full face mask covering everything except a woman's eyes. She would have looked menacing, except that she had these twinkling blue eyes that practically reflected off of the small freckles on her nose. He could also see that her face mask had been made by tying together scraps of clothing.

Not a professional, then. And likely, not threatening. He had a good intuition about this sort of thing.

"Good afternoon." Her voice came out garbled and low, almost like a man's voice, and he knew she was using some sort of net voice scrambler. A part of him wanted to hang up right then and there, because honestly, could this situation lead to anything positive? But something about her eyes were pinning his own to the screen, peaking his interest to hear why she was contacting him.

"I know who you are," she said. He raised an eyebrow. He was pretty sure his disguise was quite excellent, considering that no one in the entire restaurant had even given him a second glance. Still, he moved his hand to disconnect the comm.

"Wait! Don't hang up," she said quickly, the scrambled voice elevating a notch, "because I have a proposition for you."

"And what proposition might that be?"

"I need you to complete a…mission…for me."

"Is this some sort of joke?"

Her eyes widened. "Please can you just listen to me?"

He squinted at her. "You have two minutes."

"Your mission will be to fly to the coordinates that I will send to your port in the next five minutes. There, you will need to retrieve and deliver a package."

"Listen, sweetheart, I don't have time for any of this nonsense. I have my own agenda, and my own 'missions' that I need to accomplish before I start doing anyone else's."

"That's what I thought you would say. I did say that this was a proposition, though, and I do have something to offer in return for your help on this mission."

Now they were talking. He was a business man, after all. And he could be bought for a very large amount of money.

"In return, I will not call the Eastern Commonwealth military and reveal that you are actually the wanted fugitive Carswell Thorne, that your new ID number is 8511366, that you are planning a jewelry heist, and that you are staying in the Taj Suite of the adjacent hotel to your current coordinates, which are 39.9077° N, 116.4040° E."

Thorne's anger threatened to bubble to the surface, but he managed to maintain a complacent face. "Sounds to me like blackmail."

She ignored his comment. "I'm an expert hacker. And believe me, if I was able to find you the first time, I will be able to find you a second time—so don't think about running. It'll be faster and less expensive for you to complete your mission than for you to go through all that trouble in creating a new identity."

When he didn't say anything, her eyes narrowed. "You have twenty-four hours to complete this mission. You will receive more details when you arrive at the coordinates I specify. Oh, and I'll be tracking you."

The screen went black. He fiddled with the port for a moment, and then pulled up a net search. Sure enough, she had his exact coordinates. Cursing, a thousand thoughts went through his mind at once. He _could_ run. He was good at running. But she had a point. She had found him, she knew who he was, and if she could trace him, he wouldn't get very far.

His portscreen pinged again and as promised, new coordinates had arrived from Damsel in Distress. Checking them, he stared at his screen and double-checked the map, confused. These coordinates were not on Earth, but rather a far ways above the European Federation, not quite on the border of Lunar territory. It was a good thing he had a spaceship. Then again, she probably already knew that.

He signaled the waiter to pay for his meal, and stuffed a few pork buns in a box to take back to the hotel. He had to contact the hanger and pack his things, because apparently, he was going on a road trip. To space.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Taking the Rampion out of the hanger had been a risk. Alec hadn't been thrilled about the early collection either, and it had cost him extra univs to do so. By the time he had been able to board his ship, the masked woman was high up on his list of annoyances.

The trip into space had been mostly uneventful, though maneuvering the Rampion was always a bit of a challenge. He had an auto-control system, luckily, which helped him tremendously. Thorne had never wanted to be a pilot—only a captain—so there was no point in working to perfect his flying skills. Much to his dismay, he was growing more irritated by the minute about the collection of this supposed "package." He had stolen many things, but whenever he did, he was in complete control of the situation—and he knew what he was taking. This time, going into unknown circumstances, he felt like he could easily be walking into a trap. But if this woman wanted to turn him in, she could have just called the local police as she had said. So why hadn't she?

Maybe he needed to actually _steal _a package, rather than just collect it. That would explain why she was in need of his help specifically. Whatever her end game was, he was not happy about this deviation from his original plans. He would need to figure out a way to end this.

As he approached the coordinates he had programmed as the final destination, the Rampion's sensors alerted him of an object not far in the distance. It was a satellite, the system told him, and he squinted out the window to get a better look. A satellite? There was no way he was getting the Rampion to land on a small satellite. He would have to take one of the podships. This was not a good thing.

His portscreen chimed. _Enter through the loading dock. Air is pressurized. Package is through corridor, in main room. More instructions to follow._

She sure was good at tracking him. He contemplated taking his gun with him, but didn't know if this would raise suspicions in case he ran into a guard of some sort. Instead, he settled for his knife, which he hid away in a fold of his back pocket.

Thorne set the auto-control to remain in a circular trajectory not far from the satellite while he was gone. He reset the "Captain is King" password as he closed the door to the main cabin and sealed it off. Shakily, he entered the podship and managed to get it in the air. At least he only had a short distance to fly. As he clamped onto the loading dock of the satellite, he briefly contemplated taking off again. But he didn't know where he could go if this woman could find him so easily. He would just have to deal with this situation, and deal with it swiftly. Cursing, he smoothed his hair back and took a step onto the satellite.

He crept up the hallway, pressing himself against the wall and calculating the time it would take him to run back to the safety of his podship. He reached the entryway in no time, and slowly pushed the knob on the door. It slid open with a hiss, and he hesitated only a moment before exhaling and taking a step inside. He kept one hand on his back pocket, ready to grab his knife, just in case. But he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. It looked like someone's bedroom had been crammed into an office space. About a dozen invisi-screens lined the walls, most with intricate coding or scrolling text running over it. Only a few were blank. The bed looked like it had been recently made—but also recently slept in. His instincts put him on higher alert.

He checked his portscreen, but no message had arrived. Where was the package? What was he supposed to steal? Just then, the door behind him hissed shut, and he jumped around, only to see a black flash whir past him to one of the screens. Two seconds later, an airy computer voice declared that the doors had been locked. He backed against the wall in a defensive stance and pulled out his knife as the person turned to face him.

He saw familiar blue eyes peak out through a black makeshift face mask. It was the woman. What was she doing here? She could have gotten the package herself if she were here already. His heart sank slightly as he realized that it really _had _been a trap. He quickly replaced his disappointment with anger. She was just a liability; one that needed to be taken care of.

His mind began calculating a plan as they stared at each other. She hadn't looked too dangerous on the screen, despite her efforts, but in person she looked quite unbalanced. She wore her face mask, which covered part of her neck as well, but he could see an unnaturally long, blond braid sticking out the back. A black sheet was tied around her body loosely, but he could see that she was curiously wearing a dress underneath it, because the sleeves—not black—stuck out over the top of the sheet. She had no shoes on.

She looked like a whole lot of crazy. And here he was, trapped in a locked room with a possibly unstable person who was blackmailing him and knew his true identity. Not an optimal situation.

He did see one advantage, however. Despite her attempts to cover her body, he could see plainly that the woman was tiny. While she was very short and petite, he was six feet tall, broad, and had enough muscles to make the ladies swoon. He could easily overpower her. And considering that there was no way he was going to risk staying locked in this room, he didn't have much other choice.

"Well hello again," he said in his most charming, relaxing voice. "You startled me, but I'm glad that we're finally able to meet in person." He stashed his knife away, hoping that it would show her that he didn't have any bad intentions. Plus, he was secretly thankful that he would likely not need to use it. He took a few steps toward her. She didn't move.

He put on his most swoon-worthy smile. "I guess it's time for me to pick up that package, right?"

"Uh—yes. Hello Mr. Thorne," she replied, looking him up and down. "It's...almost ready." Her voice was no longer scrambled, but instead rather high-pitched and young-sounding.

"Excellent," said Thorne, as he smiled at her encouragingly. Her body position began to relax and she gave him a small smile. It was too easy. She was probably already falling for him.

"I'll just—"

But she didn't have time to finish her sentence before Thorne had lunged for her. The woman let out a scream and threw her hands up protectively as he grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her into the wall. She tried to push him away but he didn't budge. Feeling triumphant, he allowed his signature smirk to return to his face, making sure she got a good look at the way he was—almost effortlessly—able to hold her in place.

"Thought you could trick me, did you? I don't know what twisted game you're playing, lady, but as you can see, I am going to be the one who leaves here victorious. I haven't even had to use my knife yet."

"Now," he said, narrowing his eyes, "you are going to unlock that door."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head vigorously.

"Open it!" he commanded, as she continued to struggle.

"No! I need your help."

"Trust me, you do _not_ want to be stuck in this room with me," he said menacingly, and held her in place more firmly as if to illustrate just how much stronger he was.

"I knew you wouldn't come if I told you the truth! I had to—to make you—force you to come! I'm sorry!"

Her voice sounded muffled beneath her face mask. He was just about to rip it off when a swift blow to his knee almost made his leg buckle. He recoiled, and the woman kicked him again, tripping him in the process so he landed hard on the ground. She began to run away from him, but he shot his hand out and grabbed her by the ankle, pulling her to the floor with him. She began flailing wildly, trying to punch anywhere that she could. Despite the shooting pain in his knee, he flipped them over so he was pinning her down with his body. She grunted at the sudden weight upon her and continued to flail her arms.

"There's…no…use…in struggling—" he grunted, trying to hold her still, "I'm a lot…stronger!" He got control of her forearms and pressed them to the floor.

He double-checked the position of his legs, and made sure that she would be unable to kick him again. To his satisfaction, she was now completely immobile. "Let's try that again, shall we?" he said, pushing her hands above her head until he was able to hold her wrists in place with just one of his hands. In one swift movement, he used his free hand to yank off the face mask.

Thorne gaped at her, not believing his eyes. It was just a girl. And a _pretty_ girl, at that. She was likely only a few years younger than he was.

He softened.

Maybe he had misread the situation. But this was definitely the same person who had made him come on this hoax mission, lured him into her bedroom and then locked them in. He frowned and tried to understand what would motivate someone like her to go through all that trouble. Was she part of his fan club? He peered into her blue eyes, deep as oceans, trying to read what was behind them. And, if he were honest with himself, he was kind of mesmerized by them now, just as he had been through the portscreen vid.

Until she started screaming.

It was a shrill, annoying scream that set his nerves on edge. He couldn't concentrate. He couldn't think.

"Stop it!" he yelled back. She just continued screaming, bordering hysteria.

"Please!" he said desperately, "I can't think with all of this screaming!"

She spit in his face.

Exasperated, he did the first thing that came to mind: he grabbed her face mask with his free hand and shoved it in her mouth, gagging her. Then he wiped the spit off of his face with his sleeve. That shirt was now going to need washing. A sob choked out of her. The blue oceans he'd been captivated by only a moment before suddenly reached capacity as thick tears began pouring out of them and spilled down her cheeks. She dissolved into her tears; terror etched all over her features. When he felt her body begin to shake beneath his, realization dawned on him.

She was genuinely afraid of him. And him lying on top of her probably wasn't helping the situation.

"Aces! No, no…I'm not—I'm not going to hurt you!"

She continued to cry, and he felt slightly ashamed for having likely shown too much force in their struggle.

"I'm not going to hurt you if you don't try to hurt me," he amended, as he quickly rolled off of her, though he kept a firm grip on her wrists. He brought his knee to rest on her stomach so she was still pinned down. She was visibly scared, and he didn't want to make her feel even more uncomfortable, but he still didn't have any idea whether or not he could trust her. The sheet that she had tied around her body caught his eye. In their struggle, it had slipped down to her waist, revealing an elegant—if not overused—dress beneath.

"Can you sit up?" he asked, lifting his knee off of her. She didn't move—she just continued to cry. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he pulled the sheet out from under her anyway. He couldn't help noting how much more petite she was than he had first given her credit for. She couldn't be more than five feet tall. He used the sheet to tie her hands together firmly. Then he gently propped her up so that she was leaning against the wall and let her go. She slumped to the side, her chest heaving.

Once on his feet again, Thorne rubbed his tender knee. Then he straightened his collar and cleared his throat.

"Now, I'm sorry about this unfortunate turn of events," he said, trying to sound like a gentleman. "But this is necessary for a few minutes while I figure out what to do." He turned away from the girl. He didn't like that she was still crying and looking at him like he was a serial killer.

He tried to access the control to unlock the door, but he couldn't even figure out how to unlock the screensaver. Pacing, Thorne began talking to himself under his breath, trying to sort out different scenarios of what he could do with this girl. He'd been in tricky situations before. Tricky situations were his speciality. He could figure this out. "I could—no, that wouldn't work. Too risky. Or maybe—huh. Probably too messy. Better if I—"

He was getting nowhere. He noticed that the girl's sobs had died down, though, so he turned to look at her. She still looked slightly alarmed, but she also looked sad and hopeless. Her eyes were pleading. He fought down a pinch of guilt.

"Oh please, will you stop looking at me like that!"

The girl continued to stare at him.

"You brought this on yourself, you know," he said, feeling the need to defend himself for having bound and gagged a teenage girl. "This isn't normally part of my operation. May I remind you that _you_ contacted _me_! _You_ stalked me, _you_ told me to come here, _you_ blackmailed me."

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "And frankly, I can't have people blackmailing me. I have things to do—money to make. It's bad for my business, and even worse for my reputation. And you know my real identity, which just complicates everything."

He laughed at the irony of the situation. "Blackmailing _Carswell Thorne_? Knowing who I really am, you should have known better. I certainly hope this wasn't your whole master plan."

As one single tear slid down her cheek, he realized that it probably _had_ been her whole plan. What in the name of spades had she been thinking? And more importantly, what did she want?

Her wants aside, he still needed to take care of a liability. And now he had that liability tied up and at his mercy, helpless—exactly where he wanted her.

Except he didn't want her to be at his mercy. The only chance to get rid of this threat to his livelihood was to get rid of her. Something in his sternum hitched at the thought.

He wasn't that type of criminal.

He squatted down in front of her and rested his hands on his knees to study her. "Look, I'm sorry if I scared you. But you—you scared me too. I'm going to remove this gag now and ask you a few questions, but you have to promise not to scream again or spit on me. And I promise I won't hurt you unless you try to hurt me."

She didn't nod or shake her head, but just continued to stare at him with those wide eyes. He sighed and removed her gag. Using the dry part, he wiped away some of the wetness that still soaked her cheeks. She flinched at his touch.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

He waited, but she didn't reply.

"That doesn't seem fair, you knowing so much about me and I don't even know your name, don't you think?"

No response.

"Okay, what's so important about this package then, that you had to contact me?"

No response.

He tried to be gentler. Maybe she really was slightly deranged. "There is no package is there?"

Nothing.

He was about to get back up when she let out a little squeak. "There is."

"Well, where is it?"

Her eyes widened again and then she fixed her gaze on the floor.

"Here."

"Hidden under the floorboards?"

"No," she said, drawing in a punctured breath. "It's me. I'm the…package."

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><p><strong>AN: This was just an idea that I wanted to explore more when thinking about TLC Ship Weeks' Road Trip theme. Obviously the characters are going to be a little different from canon since Cress herself said that she would have never blackmailed anyone, and it takes place before some of the events in Cinder. Still, it was intriguing to think about "what could have been." **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Thorne cocked his head to one side. After staring at her for a few moments, he rocked back on his heels and sat down, continuing to rest his hands on his knees. This was clearly going to take awhile.

"You think I'm crazy."

Well, at least they were on the same page. "I daresay the thought has crossed my mind."

"I'm not."

"Well, that really cleared everything up, didn't it?" He knew being sarcastic wouldn't help, but she had already tried his patience a bit too much for one day.

"You're mean."

"Insulting me is not going to make me have any more pity on you."

Again with the eyes. He moved his gaze down to avoid her stare, and realized quickly that he was looking at the general vicinity of her chest. No, not a good place to be looking either. He focused on the wall behind her shoulder instead.

"I really am the package," she said firmly.

"Heard it. Can we get to the part where you explain _what in the name of spades_ that's supposed to mean?"

"I need you to get me out of this satellite and take me with you."

He forced himself to look at her, and to his dismay, she looked just as serious as she had a moment before. "Is that all? Well I'm really sorry to crush your dreams, but I'm not taking you anywhere."

"But…" she trailed off, her lip beginning to tremble. "But you're my only hope…"

"Well you certainly didn't pick the right guy, then, because I am the wrong person to put your hope in," he said dryly.

The girl's eyes widened again as some tears begin to spill out. Not the crying again! She looked around frantically—from him, to her screens, to the ceiling, to the door—anywhere and everywhere she could look. Then she began to talk to herself. First it was under her breath, but she grew louder the more she looked around.

"I am the daughter of royalty. I live on an island in the sea. Pirates have come. They have taken me aboard their ship and are holding me ransom. Yes—they will send word to my father about me. He will have the money to pay the ransom. But right now, I have to convince these pirates to let me go. I have to show them my worth. Convince them I can be part of their crew. I—I am the daughter of royalty."

Pirates? Royalty? What? Thorne watched her talk to herself and almost found it endearing. Then he remembered that he was still stuck in a locked room on a satellite. And he could now confirm that she was, in fact, crazy.

"Sure, sweetheart, you're the daughter of royalty. Can we get on with this then? What's it gonna take for you to stop stalking me?"

She snapped her attention back to him, hope lighting up her features. "Take me with you."

"Can't do it."

"Why not?"

Hmm, let's see. Because the only thing that was worse than having someone who knew his real identity was having to tote that someone around with him.

"I already told you this earlier. I can't have someone knowing my identity. And I have other things to attend to. I run a profitable business and have to worry about myself and myself alone."

"Mr. Thorne, _please_."

He sighed and looked down. He dragged his finger along the wood of the floorboard, making a circular shape. "If you want to leave the satellite so badly, why don't you just leave?"

"I'm a prisoner here. I can't leave."

Oh. "A prisoner? On a satellite? How long have you been a prisoner here?"

"Most of my life."

Thorne grimaced. He knew what it was like to feel trapped somewhere, with other people telling you what to do. He thought back to his realization that she didn't have a very well thought out plan with blackmailing him. But if she had been stuck here most of her life…she really must have been desperate.

"Most of your life? But…you have food, computers, communication capabilities…who's holding you prisoner?"

She gulped and averted her gaze. "Uhm, you probably haven't heard of them."

"So this is like a jail?"

"No, not really. I didn't actually commit a crime. I was born…different, and I was supposed to be killed. But then they realized I was good at hacking and spying and so they put me here to help them with their…missions."

"And now they wanted you to find me?"

"No! They don't know I contacted you. I manipulated a D-Comm chip to track you down. It's the first time I've ever been able to contact anyone. I thought…I thought you could help me since you had a spaceship. But I was wrong, I guess. You're just a criminal, and you don't care."

He pursed his lips and wrestled with his thoughts. She was stuck here. And she needed help. He really _was_ her best shot at getting out. He had quite the ethical dilemma in front of him. And if there was anything that Thorne was bad at it, it was making the right decision in a moral dilemma.

"By the way," she said. "The Eastern Commonwealth military was just about to catch you for the jewelry heist you were planning. And I really didn't tell them anything. You just didn't cover up your tracks enough."

"Well, I guess I can't go back to the Eastern Commonwealth then, can I?"

"Please," she said again, "take me with you. I won't be a burden. You can drop me off wherever you like. But we have to go _now_. I think if I calculated correctly, no one should be stopping by for at least a few more days, but you never know."

"Wait a minute, you lured me here with the possibility of someone catching us both? What kind of plan is this?"

"I—I watch a lot of net dramas. I've been focusing on spy dramas lately. I devised my plan based on one of them."

Thorne couldn't help chuckling at the poor girl. "Didn't your parents ever tell you not to believe the dramas? They're all fake."

"I never had any parents," she said matter-of-factly.

She was really loading on the guilt heavily. He didn't deal with guilt—pretty much ever. He made a decision, he went through with it, and he didn't dwell on the consequences. He certainly couldn't beat the system if he stopped to feel sorry for himself or other people he may have hurt in the process.

He pulled out his knife and held it up in front of her. To his surprise, this time she didn't flinch. "You know, I can make you do whatever I want. I'm the one who has the power here."

"You said you wouldn't hurt me."

"I don't want to hurt you, but if you keep up with this 'you have to take me with you' nonsense and don't open the door for me, I might not have any other choice."

This time she did flinch, but then she looked airily into space again and muttered, "he's just a pirate." She turned back to him. "Well go ahead then."

"Go ahead then, what?" he replied, not understanding her comment.

"Hurt me. It doesn't matter anymore. Because if I open that door and you leave me here, I'm already dead anyway. At least this way I'll die fast."

Thorne felt an uncomfortable churn in his stomach at her words. The dejected look on her face wasn't helping either. He knew he couldn't kill her. He didn't _want_ to kill her. He also couldn't get out of this satellite if she didn't cooperate, though. Maybe he really could threaten her a bit more, with force, just to see if she were bluffing. But deep down he knew that he wasn't that sort of person, especially not with a girl like this, and he wouldn't be able to go through with it. Especially not after what she'd just told him. This was not good.

He scratched his chin. "If I take you with me—but just to drop you off somewhere—I'll need you to make me a new ID chip. How do I know I can trust you—that you won't just track me again?"

"How do I know that if I unlock the door you won't just leave me here?"

"I guess you'll just have to trust me."

"Then you should probably trust me too."

They glared at each other for a moment, but then he forced himself to give her a carefree grin. "Alright then, let's get that door unlocked."

The girl looked at him hesitantly as he got to his feet. She slowly followed suit, her long braid trailing behind her. He followed her over to the computer, just to make sure she didn't do anything stupid. A part of him was worried that she would force the vents to emit some sort of poison. Thorne shook his head. He wasn't one to be paranoid.

She managed to type something despite still being bound. He still felt slightly bad for not releasing her, but he still couldn't quite get a solid grasp of this situation. Despite everything, it was better for him to remain with at least _some_ control. She didn't disappoint him, though, and after a few seconds, the airy voice returned and announced that the door was indeed, unlocked. He sauntered over to it quickly, and pushed the button. It opened. He turned back at the girl, who was now looking at him with her wide eyes again, and he hesitated.

She held out her arms. "Aren't you going to untie me now?"

"No," he said rather casually.

The girl looked like she was going to cry again. He walked over to her quickly before she could turn into a waterfall again. This was stressful enough without more tears. Best get this over with. In one grand swoop, he picked up the girl and slung her over his shoulders.

"Sorry sweetheart, I just don't think we've reached that stage in our relationship yet."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Cress despised Carswell Thorne.

She didn't think she could possibly like anyone less than him. Her disappointment with her choice of companion was weighing down on her so much that she could barely stand it. She was so angry that the first real Earthen she'd come in contact with was him. He had shattered every hopeful expectation she'd had for that planet. But it was her fault. After all, she'd contacted him—and now she had to suffer the consequences of her stupidity.

How he had mocked her attempt to blackmail him. She was sure he got joy at how pathetic she was. "Net dramas aren't real," he'd told her, laughing. Well, how was she supposed to know that? They were on every Earthen channel. They had Earthen people in them. They took place in Earthen nations. Why shouldn't it be real?

She knew criminals were supposed to be mean, ruthless, and dangerous. But somehow she hadn't even considered that she would end up bound and gagged with a man lying on top of her in any of the scenarios she'd fantasized when anticipating his arrival on the satellite. He should have seen her, realized that she was being held against her will, and swept her off her feet. Wasn't that what happened in all the net dramas too? Oh—of course. None of that was real. Criminals didn't become heroes, and heroes probably didn't save damsels in distress either. She bit her lip to keep from crying again. She'd cried so much already and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her lose control again. He probably already thought she was pathetic enough.

And now she sat shivering on the floor of the cockpit of a spaceship, handcuffed to a pole, tormented by her thoughts. All while Carswell Thorne flew them to stars knew where. He was a_ terrible_ pilot. Another mistake she'd made. Their ride on the podship to reach the Rampion had been so terrifying that she hadn't even been able to enjoy being off of her satellite.

Not that she'd enjoyed a single moment of anything since Carswell Thorne had joined her. After he'd agreed to bring her to the Rampion, he'd picked her up like a rag doll and tried to carry her to his podship. She'd struggled and even tried to bite him, to which he set her on the ground angrily and threatened to gag her again if she didn't behave. When she hadn't responded, he'd pointed back to her room and said that he would also be more than happy to leave her behind. She knew, of course, that leaving with him was better than being stuck on the satellite for the rest of her life, but the thought of him touching her in any way, shape, or form made her feel sick. For some reason, he always got uncomfortable when she stared at him, so that's exactly what she did instead of answering him. Sure enough, he'd faltered a bit, but then shook his head and picked her up again. This time, she'd stayed still, even though she wished she could have bitten him again, hard.

She'd kept quiet on the ride back to the Rampion. She'd mocked him in her head while he muttered "Captain is King" as a password. She'd shot daggers at the back of his head when he put her over his shoulder again as they entered. And when he'd pulled out a pair of handcuffs from a crate that sat in the middle of the cargo bay, she'd slumped to the ground, feeling as defeated as she had when he'd originally gagged her.

"I don't understand why I have to wear these," she'd complained, trying to get him to look at her. He wouldn't respond. She thought he'd looked rather uncomfortable, though, for some reason, but knew that it was just for show when she saw him grab a gun and stick it in the holster around his belt. He was finally showing his true colors. He'd said he wouldn't hurt her, but everything about being on this ship now gave her a terrible feeling about the whole situation. She tried to call up a fantasy that would make her feel better, but nothing came to her.

After a while of sitting there in misery, a thought occurred to her.

"Mr. Thorne?"

He looked back at her from the controls. "It's just Thorne. Or Captain Thorne."

There was no way she was going to call him Captain. She knew his history. He was an ex-cadet. He probably used that title to trick women into thinking he was more desirable than he was. It was just another disgusting thing about him.

"Thorne it is. I need to alter some coding for the Rampion."

"I don't think so. She takes a lot of precise maneuvering and I can't risk an amateur bringing us down."

She tried to sound more confident. "One of my jobs in the satellite was to make sure that certain ships didn't get detected by satellite and radar. If you want us to stay hidden, then you have to let me alter some of the coding."

That got his attention. He got out of the pilot seat and squatted down in front of her, just as he had on the satellite. Thorne squinted at her. "Are you telling the truth?"

"I thought we went over this already," said Cress indignantly.

He fumbled for the key in his pocket and pulled it out. He leaned over her as he reached behind to unlock her handcuffs. His body was so close to hers that she momentarily felt herself tense up and could only think of when he was pressing her down onto the satellite floor not too long ago. When he undid them from the pole, he quickly put the open handcuff on her free hand. Her hate for him grew.

"I'm _not _going to do anything with handcuffs on. I have to be able to move freely to do some programming."

He scratched the back of his neck and looked uncomfortable again. "I don't want a repeat of our scuffle in the satellite. I think handcuffs will help us avoid that, don't you?"

"I don't know how to fly. If I kill you, how am I supposed to land?"

He held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, little lady. Who said anything about killing? I just don't want to have to pin you to the floor again and gag you. But now you've got me wondering. Are you going to try to kill me?"

"No! I have a vested interest in making this ship untraceable. So if you would just let me do _what I'm best at_, then both of us could benefit. And—you won't have to pin me, or whatever."

"Fair enough."

He moved his hand back to the lock, but then hesitated. "And…no screaming either, right?"

At least she had done _something_ that had bothered him.

* * *

><p>After almost forty minutes of complicated coding, Cress felt a bit more like herself. She had even started to sing a bit by the end. When she finished, she turned in her chair to find Thorne staring at her, looking amused. He held a blanket and a mug out to her. "I thought you might be cold. And thirsty. But you seemed a bit…into whatever you were doing…so I didn't want to bother you."<p>

Cress was surprised that he would make any kind of semi-thoughtful gesture, but she was more embarrassed than anything that he had heard her singing. "Oh, thanks," she said, feeling her cheeks burn. She took the blanket from him first, after wrapping it around her tightly, she accepted the mug.

He continued to focus on her. "What?"

"I'm just trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do with you."

"Take me to Earth."

"Well, yes, eventually that is the plan, but for now I think it's better if we stay in orbit for a while. We certainly can't go back to the Eastern Commonwealth if what you said about the military was true. And you owe me a few more things before we land."

"It was true," she said quietly, looking at the tea in her mug. "You were about to get caught."

"Nah, maybe they would have gotten close, but they wouldn't have actually caught me. I'm too quick for them."

Cress turned away from him, hoping he would leave her alone. These were her first moments of feeling any sort of peace aboard the ship, and she wanted to relish in no longer being trapped on the satellite. She gazed out at the Earth below her, and felt a tingle of excitement take over as she imagined what it would be like take a step on real soil. She'd watched the Earth for so many years, and now in perhaps just a few days time, her dream would become a reality.

But after a while the Rampion's trajectory turned, and suddenly she found herself staring at Luna. It looked huge from this vantage point, and its sparkling white and gray light seemed to reach out and touch her lungs, filling her with icy dread. Cress began to shake all over in fright.

"Hey, are you still cold?" asked Thorne. She hadn't realized he was still there.

"No—no—" she replied, her teeth chattering.

Thorne took the mug out of her hands. "Come on, let's get you some more blankets before you freeze to death. Maybe you're in shock from all the excitement today." Cress's gaze remained fixed on the moon. She was certain that Sybil would already know that she'd escaped, and that the Lunar Queen was somehow watching their ship from the moon. If she could see Luna, surely Lunars could see her.

"Hey—wait a minute," said Thorne. He came to stand next to her. "You're not afraid of the moon are you?"

She managed to tear her gaze away from Luna and studied him instead. She had been sure that he would think she was pathetic for this too, but his face seemed gentler than she'd expected. "Uh—yes. You know, Lunars."

Thorne nodded. "Your mother tell you scary bedtime stories about them too?" He shook his head. "Sorry, forgot about the no parents thing—yeah." He cleared his throat. "We're still on Earthen territory, so don't worry. They don't come over the border."

But they did. She had helped to disguise their ships for many years. And eventually, they would attack Earth when they had enough of them in place.

"I know some people who say they've come in contact with them, though," he continued. "From what I've gathered, Lunars are a crazy, psychotic species that pretty much deserve to die." He chuckled. "But we already knew that, didn't we?"

Cress forced herself to get out of her chair and walk in the opposite direction of the dashboard.

"You heading to the kitchen? I could use some dinner myself," he called behind her. "Let me just put this baby in complete auto-control."

She kept walking. He could never find out she was Lunar. Because if he did, he would probably try to kill her too.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Once he was confident that the Rampion was fine on its own, Thorne hurried to the kitchen as quickly as he could. He was surprised that she had known exactly where to go, as if she had already memorized the interior of his ship. It probably had to do with her previous stalking and surveillance. When he arrived in the galley, however, the girl wasn't there.

Spades.

He dashed around corner and reached the corridor to the living quarters, and finally saw her in his room. She was rifling through a drawer in his small wardrobe. His bed's blankets had also been overturned. She was clearly searching for something. After catching his breath a moment, he cleared his throat rather loudly. She turned to him with a look that Thorne could only classify as paralyzing fear.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk…caught in the act," he scolded, entering the room. She ran behind the bunk bed, as if the poles that held its frame could hide her from him. He didn't even bother trying to approach her. He simply walked over to the drawers and slid them shut, one by one, first with his foot on the lowest one, then his hip on the middle one, and finally the uppermost with his hand.

"I guess I'll give you credit for trying," he said as he turned back to her and leaned against the closed wardrobe. He was unable to keep the smirk off of his face. "But there's two things you should know about stealing. And considering that this line of work is right up my alley, I'm happy to let you in on a few trade secrets."

He knew he sounded cocky, but seriously, she thought she could steal from _him_? It was laughable. "First, don't ever assume that you can outsmart a master thief such as myself. I know _all_ the tricks of the trade, my dear. Don't think for a second that I would submit myself to the same stupidities as those from whom I steal."

He paused and walked closer to her, even though he saw that she visibly shrank at his approach. He held out his hand and she flinched, but he merely put it above her head, measuring her. "You're what, barely five tall? The _second_ secret is that you should probably stick to stealing things that are more…I don't know, at your eye level?" Thorne laughed and pointed at the uppermost shelf.

Clearly the girl wasn't appreciating his tips, because if anyone had ever been able to shoot daggers with her eyes, it was her. For some reason, her anger made the situation funnier, and his laugh deepened. So much so, that he had to sit down on his bed to keep from doubling over.

She didn't laugh, of course. In the short time he'd known her, Thorne was positive she probably didn't even know what a joke was. As his laughing subsided, though, she came out from behind the poles.

"You're not…mad at me?" she asked quietly.

Thorne let out another chuckle. "Heavens, no. Just amused. It was a pretty pathetic attempt. Where did you think you were going to hide whatever it is you were looking for, once you got it? I know where you live now."

He straightened up in the bed. "Hey, what were you trying to find anyway?"

"I'm looking for a sharp knife," she said firmly. "There weren't any in the kitchen, and I know you have one."

Thorne thought of the knife tucked away in his back pocket, and the grin faded from his face.

"What do you need a knife for?" he asked, now suspicious.

"Nothing."

He thought about her sneaking around already, only a few hours after coming aboard. Maybe it wasn't _as_ amusing as he'd thought, after all. "Nothing, huh?"

"Nothing."

He snorted. "Right. Because that makes me feel _real_ safe."

She folded her arms across her chest. "It's personal, and I don't have to tell you."

He was beginning to grow annoyed. Why did she want a sharp knife? Was she trying to kill herself? Worse, kill him?

"Keep up with that attitude, sweetheart, and you'll be right back where you started. In fact—" he reached into his jacket pocket and whipped out the handcuffs, "—these seem to be appropriate again, don't you think?"

Her face sagged a bit, but to his surprise, she didn't resist this time as he strapped one of her hands to the pole on his bedframe. It made him feel a bit perturbed to see that she had lost the fight in her. Maybe she really _was_ trying to kill herself. This disturbed him on many levels. He tried to make the cuffs loose enough so that she could at least lie down on the mattress comfortably.

"Now, do you want to tell me what all that was about?" he asked gently.

No reply.

"You could probably convince me to take those off?" He pointed at the handcuffs.

No reply.

"Do you want me to bring you some food?"

Again no reply. So, they were back to this game again. Thorne felt a wave of frustration threatening to burst out of him and tried to remain calm and collected. That was his normal state of mind. He could brush things off easily. Something about this girl, though, just managed to get him all riled up.

She didn't appreciate anything he did for her. And he was really trying here. He'd brought her some tea and a blanket. Hadn't gotten mad when she had clearly violated his privacy. Offered food.

Come to think of it, why was he bothering with this girl anyway? It'd be so much easier for him to just spend the next few days ignoring her while she just sat there. It was what she deserved.

But there was a girl on his ship.

Not that this was the first time.

He should probably correct that thought: there was a girl on this ship who he didn't want there. It was a strange sensation.

Thorne had enough of her for the time being, and since she refused to 'fess up about her intentions with the knife, let alone acknowledge him, he decided to leave. She couldn't be trusted. He'd made the right choice.

As he turned the corner of his doorway, he heard a quiet but angry voice finally speak up.

"My name is Cress."

He turned to look at her.

"Don't ever call me sweetheart again."

* * *

><p>A few hours later and well into the night, Thorne returned to his room to see that Cress had fallen asleep. She was lying in an awkward position, with her cuffed hand stretched out above the blanket to reach the pole. He noticed that she'd undone the braid in her hair somehow, and her long, unruly locks spread out over everything. Despite looking rather wild and unkempt, looking at her sleep so soundly made him soften a bit.<p>

He set the food and water he'd brought for her down on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb her. Thorne reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to the cuffs. He'd thought about the situation while he ate—thought about it long and hard. The thought of her panicked looks and desperation seemed to be haunting him. He didn't want to be the bad guy, even though he knew he wasn't a good guy by any means. After a lifetime of imprisonment in a satellite, he just couldn't keep her locked up here too. He would just have to take his chances.

The lock opened without any noise, and he gently laid her hand down by her side.

Then he sat down in front of the door, blocking the exit. He'd stay awake tonight, lest she get any crazy ideas when she woke up.

Just in case.

* * *

><p>Thorne woke with a start. His back was sore from lying on the hard floor. Wait...why was he lying on the floor? His brain was scrambled from being tired. Rubbing his eyes, he looked up at his bed. Saw the unmade blankets.<p>

_Oh._

A jolt of panic hit him when he realized that the girl wasn't there.

He jumped to his feet and surveyed the room. Going out into the hallway, he began to look for her. "Cress?" he called hesitantly. "Cress, where are you?"

A chill spread through him when nothing but the quiet whirring of the ship responded. Instinctively, he reached for the knife in his pocket—only to discover that the knife wasn't there. Stars above, what had he done?

What had _she_ done?

He began creeping up the hallway, almost as he had in the satellite, hyper-aware of everything around him. It was too unnerving. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw a light coming from underneath the bathroom door. Thorne felt instantly silly for being so spooked. _She was just in the bathroom_.

But then…why had she taken his knife?

Thorne considering breaking down the door with one swift kick for about three seconds, and then decided to err on the side of being a gentleman.

He knocked. "Cress? Is…everything okay?"

To his surprise, the door opened a crack. He saw Cress's eyes survey him for a minute, and then the door open a sliver more. "Everything is great!"

It was the most enthusiasm he'd seen her muster, and it caught him slightly off guard. She went to shut the door again, but Thorne put his foot in the way, halting it.

"Cress…_why do you have my knife_?"

"Oh, that. Just give me a few moments."

Thorne pleaded for the stars to give him patience. "_Cress_. I'm really trying not to be the bad guy here, but you are _scaring_ me. I'm giving you five seconds to open the door or I'm coming in forcefully."

"Fine."

Cress opened the door. He had been so ready to see blood, or some indication of her hurting herself, that what he did see only made him gape at the room in shock. The room was covered in long locks of blonde hair. They were on the floor, hanging off of the bathroom sink, and draped all over her clothes. The hair that still remained on her head was cropped short, just reaching the middle of her neck.

"Well?" she asked excitedly, a smile lighting up her face. "What do you think?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Her enthusiastic face stared up at him as he continued to process what had just transpired. Then Thorne burst out laughing. Part from relief, part from his recovering shock.

_She just wanted to cut her hair?_

Her face fell as he laughed. "You hate it." She turned to study herself in the mirror.

"Wait, wait, wait. We'll get to that. First, why didn't you just tell me you wanted to cut your hair?" He pushed past her into the bathroom. It was like a jungle of weeds in there. _Hair_ weeds. He sat down on the lid of the toilet seat after removing some of the stray locks that had fallen there too.

"I was mad at you." Cress stated it simply, as if it were normal for them to fight.

"Mad at me? _Mad_ at me? I rescued you from your satellite, I gave you…a _blanket_, and I didn't get angry with you when you tried to steal from me!" He thought about listing everything else he could think of to show that he had in fact done her several favors, but decided to save those in case she came up with a counter-argument.

She tore her gaze away from the mirror and rounded on him. "You think you're some big hero or something?"

"Me? A hero? No way," he scoffed.

"Oh. Good." She turned back to the mirror and leaned in to inspect her coif some more. Thorne sat dumbly on the toilet seat, not really sure what he was supposed to add to their "argument."

"Do you have any make-up?" she asked casually.

Thorne raised an eyebrow, surprised that she was changing the subject so easily. "Why do you need make-up?"

"I am an actress," she murmured, though Thorne thought it sounded like she was talking to herself again.

"Are you sure you're not still the daughter of a governor who's been kidnapped by a pirate?" he asked dryly.

He watched her eyes narrow in the mirror. "Yeah, I heard you muttering to yourself on the satellite. What's with that anyway?"

She took a deep breath and finally turned around to face him. "I have a very strong imagination. You wouldn't understand."

He leaned back and raised his hands in defense. "Sweethea—_Cress,_" he quickly amended, remembering how she'd despised the salutation. "I've known _plenty _of girls who have a strong imagination. So believe me, _that_ I can understand. And even enjoy." He chuckled to himself, remembering a specific example from back in his military days. Then he realized he probably shouldn't share that story with her.

"But this is different. I don't really get it."

Cress sighed. "I haven't had any company for so many years. Well, besides Little Cress."

"Who's Little Cress?" he asked curiously.

"She's part of the software to my invsi-screens. I programmed her myself. She's a bit like an android without a body, I guess."

"I had a robotic cat once," he said. He wasn't sure why he'd said that. He didn't like talking about his past.

"Did she talk?"

"No. She purred, though. I always wanted a real cat instead. Anyway…you were saying? You haven't had any company so you use your imagination?"

"Yes." She bit her lip. "Probably another reason you think I'm crazy."

He laughed. "I'm still deciding on that one."

"Is that why you tied me up?" she asked suddenly, eyes wide.

Thorne listed his head to one side. "I thought we went over this. I don't know you, you stalked me, you blackmailed me, you forced me to take you with me, and I don't know if I can trust you. Then, you threatened me with a knife."

"I did _not_ threaten you!" Her angry voice was back.

"Details. Point is, if you would have told me you wanted a haircut, I probably wouldn't have tied you up. I didn't like doing that."

"Really?"

He shrugged. "Every time I get near you, you look at me like I'm about to murder you or…" He trailed off, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. "I don't know, do other things to hurt you. I don't like it."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it."

How much should he really be telling this girl? He probably shouldn't be letting her in on how he felt about this whole situation anyway. He had to act tough and remain disconnected. Changing the subject would probably be a better move.

"You finally got a knife, Cress. You managed to steal it from me while I was sleeping, which I must admit was impressive. Definitely wasn't expecting that one. You could have killed me. Or, I guess, even cuffed me. Why didn't you? I know you hate me."

Cress began to fiddle with a strand of her hair. "You let me go," she said quietly. "I figured if you trusted me enough to let me sleep without being tied up, then maybe I shouldn't hate you so much."

"It was never my intention to keep you tied up the entire time you were on this ship."

"I wouldn't blame you, I guess. I mean, I would hate you if you did, but I know I ruined your life."

He laughed again. "Let's not be overly dramatic. But you are _definitely _a pain. And I have no idea what I'm going to do with you."

She fiddled some more as she watched him with her blue eyes. Those darn eyes. They were going to be the death of him.

"Let me think on that for a bit. For now, why don't we take a better look at your hair."

Hope etched its way very clearly onto her face. "Really?"

"Why do you care what I think, anyway?" he asked as he got up to stand behind her.

They were both looking in the mirror now. He towered over her. A little pit in his stomach formed as a vivid memory of his parents came back to him. His mom sitting in a chair in front of the vanity, putting on her lipstick. His father, all adorned in his military suit, standing behind her and looking proudly down at his wife. It was one of the only times that he'd seen his dad look proud in Thorne's presence. Thorne had always just disappointed him.

"You're the first guy I've ever met," she said shyly. "Well, since I was eight years old."

The same feeling of unease about her situation that he'd had aboard her satellite returned. He didn't like the way his gut tightened when he thought about her held prisoner there for so many years. He tried to shake away the thought. It didn't matter. It wasn't his fault that she had been locked up.

"Aha," he said, eager to lighten the mood from his own convoluted thoughts. "So you're trying to impress me?"

She turned bright red. "No."

He poked her side, and she jumped. "_Uh-huh_."

"I thought that since, um, you seem to have a little bit of an idea of fashion, maybe you could help me make it look right. So I'll be more presentable to society."

He grinned. "I do have an excellent sense of style."

Thorne studied her hair in the mirror. He already thought she was pretty, with her little heart-shaped face and freckles. He didn't even allow himself to think about her eyes again. Her hairstyle was a bit messy though. He picked up the scissors from the sink. "May I?"

She nodded.

"I think that we could make this a little neater. Maybe add in an angle or two." He reached for her hair. He was _not_ about to tell her that he'd never cut hair in his life and now that he was faced with the challenge it seemed a lot more difficult than he'd imagined. Confidence was key here. Thorne snipped away a bit, and though he tried to concentrate on the hair, his gaze often drifed back to the mirror. She seemed more relaxed now, and he liked that. High-stress situations and crying girls were not his favorite combination. This was much better. Still, it felt oddly intimate to be doing this with a complete stranger.

"There," he said. "That should do it."

He brushed off a few of the cut pieces from her neck. A small tingle went through his fingers at the touch and he immediately pulled his hand away. They stared at each other in the mirror.

"So I look okay? Like an Earth—like a regular person?"

"Yes. You could definitely pass for a regular person."

Beaming, she twirled around once, and almost collided with Thorne's back.

"Steady there, Miss Actress."

She blushed again. "Sorry."

"You know, I think we need to get you out of that dress."

The red on her cheeks turned a deep crimson. "Wh—what?"

"Normal people don't wear tattered dresses like that. And don't even get me _started_ on that weird sheet you had wrapped around yourself in the satellite."

"I was just trying to disguise myself," she said defensively. Then, in a lower tone, "I don't have anything else to wear. You didn't let me get any of my things."

Ah. That hadn't been a good oversight on his part. "Hang on a minute, I have an idea. I'll be right back. In the meantime, why don't you clean up some of the hair in here?"

Thorne left for his room. He'd packed up all his belongings from his hotel in New Beijing when he'd decided to proceed with this so-called "mission." He didn't own too much—being constantly on the move prevented him from taking too much along with him—but he did have several outfits. Worst case scenario, he could rummage through the boxes in the cargo bay. Maybe there was something in there for girls.

His wardrobe was a mess from her desperate attempts to find a knife. Thorne still couldn't believe that she'd thought he'd hide a knife in his drawers. Amateurs. After a few minutes, he found something that could work and headed back to the bathroom. It looked a little better now, though it would likely take a while before all the hair was completely removed from the floor.

"They're not much, and they'll definitely be too big, but there's no buttons or zippers or anything, so you can just roll up the pants until they fit you. I don't usually wear sweats, so I won't need them while we're on the Rampion. We'll figure out something else later."

Cress stared down at the clothes in awe. "I've never worn pants."

"Well look at that, you can take that off your bucket list now."

He reminded her that she needed to eat something before he left her in the bathroom and went to the galley. Pulling out a box of cereal, he considered letting her make her own breakfast. Then, rather annoyed, he reminded himself that this girl was still in a bit of a delicate state. She obviously needed a little special attention. Thorne filled her bowl too and set two places at the table. He tried to sit patiently, but he wasn't used to having to wait on someone else, so he decided to eat without her.

Mid-mouthful, Cress walked in. She had that shy look on her face again, as if looking for his approval. But what intrigued him the most was her clothes. Well, _his_ clothes on her. He was used to girls in tight clothes that showed off the kind of curves he liked. He was used to girls who wore too _little _clothing around him. But he was completely caught off guard by this five foot girl drowning in his enormous black hoodie and baggy faded sweatpants.

He swallowed. She was absolutely _adorable_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Okay. Maybe she didn't despise Carswell Thorne as much as she initially thought. He was still the worst decision she'd ever made, of course, but Cress had to admit that being around him now was at least tolerable. Something about no longer being handcuffed, getting a haircut, and eating a few meals seemed to have made both of their moods improve quite a bit. Thorne no longer looked at her like she she might kill him in his sleep, and Cress, well, she no longer daydreamed about killing him in his sleep.

Throughout the day, Thorne mostly kept to himself. She tried at one point to ask what he was doing, but he'd shooed her away. When she came to tell him that lunch was ready, however, she could see that he had large maps and notes with indecipherable writing littered all over the floor. He hunched over them, deep in concentration. Cress was really surprised to see that he had a pencil tucked behind his ear. She hadn't known that people used pencils anymore, let alone bothered to write things by hand when they could easily use a port or a netscreen. Maybe it was an Earthen thing. She decided not to push the topic in case it would give away her ignorance.

Thorne complimented her on the food she'd made. She put on a cool facade that made her seem as if she had cooked her whole life and it was no big deal, but inside, she was glowing. Cress had only ever eaten the freeze-dried food that Sybil had stockpiled on her satellite. She'd watched a lot of cooking netshows though, and was fascinated with Earthen food. Plus, Thorne had cooked a weird meal for them at breakfast. It was something he called "cereal," but it just seemed like he had roasted some grains and covered them in sugar. These sugary grains floated in milk and were apparently something that they ate in the American Republic. She didn't tell him, but when she took her first bite she decided that she better take over the cooking from then on. Problem was, despite her cooking shows, she didn't recognize half the ingredients in the Rampion's cupboards. She'd definitely have to do some research later when Thorne wasn't looking.

When Thorne returned to his room and his maps, Cress returned to the bathroom and its large mirror. She was still getting used to the idea of her haircut. She had _short _hair. _Stylish_ hair. Here in the privacy of the bathroom, she could spin around, shake her hair, and stare at her reflection to her heart's content. She looked like a famous opera singer. Except, of course, for the huge clothes that Thorne had lent her. It took a lot of imagination to forget that she was wearing them, and that they weren't incredibly ugly on her, but she still managed. She was the most sought-after opera singer in all the galaxy. Her shows filled up only minutes after tickets went on sale. And her voice astounded them all. Cress sang a few tunes from a particular Second Era opera she was fond of. It was about freedom. Because Cress was free.

Sort of.

She was still stuck on this spaceship with Carswell Thorne, but it wouldn't be long before they would have to eventually land. After all, the Rampion wasn't meant for long orbits. They'd have to get fuel at some point. Cress imagined all the things she would do on Earth. One of the most romantic ideas she could think of was her first trip to the beach. She would feel salty water under her feet as she ran along the sand. Her hair would billow in the breeze along with the cute dress she'd wear. Things _did not_ billow in space. She'd taste seafood for the first time. Maybe chat up a local gentleman who waitered at one of the beach bars. And she would swim as much as she possibly could. Then, at the end of the day, she would watch as the sunset faded into a burning red at the horizon. Cress squealed with delight at her fantasy. Finally, finally, finally, her fantasy would become a reality. Along with many others.

She just had to figure out how to get away from Thorne without him realizing that she was Lunar. Unfortunately, as he'd pointed out, she hadn't thought that part of her plan through. She wondered if there was a way that she could trick him into telling her what he would do in this situation. He was, after all, a selfish criminal, and a selfish criminal would always look out for himself. But he was rather clever too. He would know what she was trying to do. She'd have to come up with something more clever. It would be tricky, but somehow she would get out of this—just like she had gotten out of the satellite.

There was something that she had to do first, though. It'd been weighing on her since she'd left the satellite. There was still one person who could ruin all of her plans, even the ones she hadn't made yet.

Mistress Sybil.

If she found out that Cress was missing before the Rampion got far enough away, she was sure that neither she nor Thorne would survive the manhunt that would ensue. Cress was simply too valuable. Which, if she thought about it, was rather ironic considering how Sybil always told her that she was worthless. When she was younger, Cress had always cried whenever Mistress told her that. She wanted to be loved, valued, and appreciated. But as she'd spent more time in the satellite, she'd come to realize that one of the reasons she would never leave the satellite was because she knew too much. This made her valuable. Her hacking skills could make entire fleets of Lunar ships disappear. She could record hour-long meetings with key Earthen leaders, among other hacking talents. And her blood was valuable. She didn't know why, but she knew that Sybil took her blood somewhere after every visit to the satellite. Mistress Sybil wanted Cress alive or she would have killed her already. Now that she'd escaped, though, Cress was fairly certain her value would go down to nothing. Now she would just be a liability.

Cress couldn't begin her investigation until Thorne went to bed, though. She busied herself with anything she could while Thorne remained holed up in his room. She ate dinner by herself, which was perfectly fine with her, and then flicked on a netscreen to watch a drama. The one she decided on was one of her favorites, and Cress was rather thrilled that she wouldn't have to miss an episode. She was about half-way through when Thorne finally came to find her.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the door. "You still watching this nonsense?"

She almost gave him a sour look, but then got the distinct impression from his face that he was just teasing her. "I like this one," she said instead.

He glanced at the screen then back to her. "I guess I can't blame you. All the girls love that actor, don't they?"

Cress wasn't sure. She hadn't met any other girls, but she did know this actor was rather famous. "Yes."

"Is it because he looks like Prince Kai?"

"I—"

"Wait, let me guess," Thorne snickered. "Is Prince Kai your _dream _man? Does he make your heart _flutter_?" Thorne batted his eyes at her, and she thought he looked rather ridiculous, so she giggled.

Thorne let his jaw fall open theatrically.

"What?"

"You're laughing. I can't believe it," he said.

She giggled again. "Well, yeah, you're being silly."

"I believe that's the biggest compliment you've given me since we've met. I'll take it."

Cress bit her lip and looked down, unsure of what to say.

Thorne cleared his throat. "Well listen, I'm gonna head to bed soon. Thought I'd check if you needed anything beforehand. Like a toothbrush, maybe."

Cress stared at him.

"You did...have toothbrushes on the satellite, right?" He eyed her wearily.

She recovered quickly. "Yes, I did. You're right, a toothbrush would be great, thanks."

He gestured to the hallway. "Well come on then."

They went back to the bathroom where Thorne rummaged in the cabinet for a moment before pulling out a blue brush. "Here you go."

Cress took it eagerly and undid the wrapper. Thorne grabbed some toothpaste from below the vanity and handed it to her as well. She slid some paste onto her toothbrush and gave the tube back to Thorne. But instead of putting the tube away and leaving the bathroom, Thorne simply pulled his own toothbrush from the cup on the sink and slid some toothpaste on it. Then he turned on the water and began brushing his teeth as if it were completely normal for the both of them to do this together.

Which of course it wasn't. She'd never brushed her teeth with anyone before. Wasn't that something that couples did together before they went to bed? The thought of it made her cheeks warm just a bit. Thorne, however, didn't seem fazed at all. He raised his eyebrows at her in the mirror and cocked his head at the water, which he'd left running for her. Cress gingerly put her toothbrush under the faucet and began cleaning her teeth. She tried to close her mouth as much as possible so he wouldn't see all the foam in her mouth. She caught him watching her in the mirror and looked down shyly. When she looked up again, she saw that Thorne, on the other hand, was almost oozing foam. He made a big gurgling noise and then spit his toothpaste into the sink. He splashed some water in this mouth, turned off the faucet, gave Cress a dazzling smile, and then walked casually out of the bathroom. Cress moved to spit out her own toothpaste, and stopped when she looked into the sink. That was the moment when she decided that living with a boy was perhaps a bit more gross than she'd previously imagined.

Cress went back to the room Thorne had told her she could sleep in from now on. She counted down the minutes until she thought he might have fallen asleep. Then she snuck to his room and pressed her ear against the door. She heard rhythmic breathing. All clear. Cress headed quickly to the cockpit and all the beautiful netscreens and controls that awaited her. Inhaling deeply, she sat down and began.

It'd been a long time since she hacked into any Lunar surveillance. After she'd found Julian's parents so long ago, she didn't want to try searching for anything Lunar-related for many years. Then, when she'd gotten up the courage to at least watch some Lunar feeds on her netscreen, she'd realized that Lunars disgusted her to a certain degree. They also made her incredibly sad. She knew exactly where to look, though. Mistress Sybil's specialty was surveillance, and Cress had always been her pawn. She'd set up surveillance systems not just to spy on Earthens, but Lunars too.

Cress pulled up a picture of Sybil and connected it to a facial recognition problem in Luna's surveillance database. She went through footage of the last twenty-four hours rather quickly until she found what she was looking for. Sighing in relief, she watched as Sybil spent her day around Artemisia Palace. Cress wasn't able to see her in every room, because the Lunar Queen didn't like cameras, but she saw enough to know that Sybil had not departed on her podship. They were safe.

Cress paused when she saw a feed from the medical laboratories. Sybil Mira had spent a long time there today. The head scientist and her seemed to be arguing quite a bit, and then finally, he handed her some paperwork and a vial. Cress zoomed in as much as she could, but only saw the word CONFIDENTIAL stamped across top, along with a few numbers and letters. She couldn't make out the beginning of the sequence. Curiosity peaked, she hacked into the medical database and entered the numbers from the document. Most of the documents that came back as possible hits were years old, but she narrowed it down to one that was dated only from this past week.

Her happiness dissipated when she read the document. Sybil Mira was to take the vial to one of the shells that they kept hidden for experimentation and inject it in him during his monthly blood draw. Then, Queen Levana herself would issue him a royal decree stating that this shell had been forgiven of his crimes, and was going on a special mission for Luna. The mission, apparently, was to join Emperor Rikan's personal guard as an undercover spy. The shell would only know that he was to report back any information he found from his time there, and if he were helpful, he could come back to Luna as a free man. What the man wouldn't know was that Sybil had injected him with the plague. It was the same plague that had ravished Earth for the last several years.

The shell's real job was to infect Emperor Rikan with Letumosis.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Cress still hadn't recovered from her shock. Why were they sending a shell? Why did Levana want to infect Emperor Rikan, unless she wanted to kill him? And what could she do to stop her?<p>

When she heard Thorne invite her for breakfast, though, she tried to think rationally. She couldn't—wouldn't—do anything. And she certainly wouldn't tell anyone what she knew. If Earthens hated Lunars as much as Thorne said they did, then no one would ever believe her. Besides, she had to think like a selfish criminal. And a selfish criminal would keep herself safe, and not worry about the problems of an evil queen and a poor, unsuspecting emperor.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Thorne didn't tell Cress that he had heard her screaming in her sleep. Instead, he studied her carefully as they ate breakfast together. Her cropped locks were a little messy from sleep, and she had this one little tuft of hair that was just calling to be tucked back into place. He would have offered, but it would have been incredibly inappropriate—for both of them—so he let it be. In a way, it matched the hoodie and sweatpant combo look that she was still sporting. The mood between them was dull and muted. They were back to ground zero again. She was somber, with a sour look etched all over her features, and big blue eyes that pierced into him like bullets whenever she looked up from her cereal. Which she hadn't touched at all.

"Everything okay?" he finally decided to ask.

"Fine," she grumbled.

He chewed thoughtfully as she pretended to eat by sloshing around the milk in her bowl. Hadn't both their moods improved radically since her haircut? Wasn't the worst of their misunderstandings behind them? Shouldn't she be cutting him some slack now that she _appeared_ to understand everything he'd done for her? He'd just sacrificed his entire livelihood in New Beijing for her—and unwillingly too! He was, albeit grudgingly, beginning to see her point of view as well, though. Had he been in the same position, he would have figured out a way to blackmail a hotshot spaceship pilot too. She'd done better than that though—she'd gotten a Captain. And he was nothing if not a self-proclaimed hotshot. Cress should be happy. Thankful.

Then again, if he could remove his ego from the equation for a minute, he knew she'd had a bad dream. He probably should have woken her up. Maybe now she wouldn't be in such a bad mood then. Wasn't that what normal, gentlemanly men did in situations like this, anyway? When had he become so uncivilized? And yet, from all the net drama watching she'd done, she probably would have expected him to take her into his arms and soothe her. He couldn't have that. No, definitely not. It would have been too intrusive for him to barge in there, anyway.

Besides, he'd had a bad dream of his own, and he wasn't sitting here complaining about it. His restless night had been filled with visions of Lunars chasing the Rampion until it had exploded into burning fire, with both Cress and him aboard it. The thought of his poor baby being burned alive was almost worse than the thought of the two of them dying. Almost. He was still most concerned with self-preservation, even in his dreams.

The dream had reminded him of an important fact: he had other things to worry about _like _his self-preservation. Where were they were going to land? His previous choices of residency had always had a purpose, and he'd always managed to fulfill that purpose and leave before any trouble could follow him. The fact that he'd been unsuccessful in New Beijing was eating away at him. That necklace had been worth so many univs to the right buyer. Now, without the necklace, any concrete plans, and this girl in tow, he was sheer out of ideas. Something about her was blocking him from continuing to be a criminal mastermind.

It was a problem. He'd poured over maps all day yesterday, trying to think of where to go next, but he always went back to the same stumbling block: Cress. What would he do with her once they landed? How would he get away from her? And where would she go? Did he trust her enough to keep his secrets?

He squirmed in his chair. "We're getting along a little better, wouldn't you say?"

Cress stopped stirring. "I just want to get to Earth," she said blankly.

He nodded in agreement, but he didn't appreciate her tone. "Right. Have you given any thought as to where you…might like to go?"

"You're giving me a choice?" she asked, startled.

"More like…looking for your feedback," he said slowly. "I realized I never actually asked what your plans were."

"My plans are my own," she said.

"I see. Revenge on those who ruined your life, I suppose?"

Cress shuddered. "No. Not at all."

"Too innocent for that sort of thing?"

"I used to be," she said quietly. "I'm not anymore."

"Oh, right." He smirked. "Blackmail will do that do you."

"That's not why I don't want to go after them. I just want to have a normal life on Earth and be left alone."

Thorne got up to rinse off his dishes. When he was done, he wiped his hands on his pants to dry them quickly. "You should think about a disguise, you know."

Cress just shrugged. "No one will recognize me. They took me when I was a baby."

"The people who took you, though, don't you think they've noticed you're gone by now?"

"Maybe."

"Will they come looking for you?"

"Probably."

He crossed his arms. "You seem very unconcerned about this."

Her big eyes became slits. "I just want to forget about them, okay? Stop asking me about it."

"In our current state of affairs, your well-being affects mine right now. So I'm going to make sure you get a disguise."

She threw up her hands. "Is that why you have that ugly jet-black hair right now?"

"Ugly!?" Thorne's hands flew to his hair. "I could never be ugly. I'm insulted on so many levels."

She rolled her eyes. "You look stupid. It's really obvious that it's not your natural hair color."

"Ah, but it does make me blend in more, doesn't it? Light brown hair and blue eyes don't work so well in New Beijing if you're trying to be inconspicuous."

"How did you color your eyes differently anyway? I've kind of been wondering."

"Ahhh. So you _have_ noticed that my dreamy blue eyes were missing from this equation after all."

Cress huffed.

"I know, I know, I'm much more attractive in my natural state. Though I must say, the time I spent working on my tan has really paid off, don't you think?" He posed and flashed her a brilliant smile.

"You're so full of yourself," she said.

He grinned. "But I look good. Come on, admit it."

"No."

He sighed and walked back to the table. "They're just colored contacts, by the way."

"Great." She was still disinterested. Thorne was beginning to wonder if he was starting to lose his touch.

"Well, since you need a disguise, maybe the first thing we should do is stop at a shopping center." The words slipped out before he realized what he'd said.

Cress brightened almost instantly, though. "Really?"

He scratched at his dyed hair. Had he really just offered to take her shopping? On Earth? This would mean more time together, more liabilities. What was he doing? "Uh—you need other clothes anyway."

Cress pulled his hoodie over her head and tightened the strings around her face. "You mean this look isn't enough?" she giggled.

His knees felt slightly weak for some reason, so he sat down. "Cress, honestly. You look like a runaway." But she ignored him. Instead, she seemed overcome with glee. Figured. Women and their shopping. He'd trapped himself, plain and simple.

"I've never been shopping before! But when I was bored sometimes I'd search the different online outlets with Little Cress and we'd—"

"Wait a minute, who's Little Cress?"

"It's a long story," she said waving it away. "I'm so excited!" She stood up and beamed at him.

"So, yes on the shopping then," he remarked, mostly to himself. He was an idiot. Could he take it back now? Yes, yes he could. But he still needed a place to land anyway. This could be a good motivation for him to finally make a decision. "American Republic is obviously out. Australia is out, and so is the Eastern Commonwealth…at least for now." He racked his brains for a possibly inviting location. He wasn't a fan of Queen Camilla, and he had no desire to run amok in her small kingdom anyway. Africa was too hot around this time of year. Plus, he wasn't a fan of all the letumosis outbreak rumors he'd been hearing about in that region on the newsfeeds lately. He hadn't spent too much time in the European Federation yet, though…and his pale companion could certainly fit in there a little better than some other countries. Not to mention there would be plenty of shopping to distract Cress, and _many_ business opportunities for him.

"What about Paris?"

Cress shrieked. "Paris? The city of love?"

Thorne waved his hand dismissively, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "City of love, city of lights, city of whatever. It's a city. We're more likely to blend in."

"As long as you don't steal anything," she said, eyeing him.

He laughed but ignored her statement for obvious reasons. "Does this mean you're going to stop pouting for the remainder of our time on the Rampion?"

"Maybe."

"Don't make me beg. Because I won't."

She pulled on the strings of her—his—hoodie again, distracted. "I am a model, and I'm going shopping, and I'll be on a runway, and everyone will see me!"

Thorne held up his hands. "Hey, hey, hey. You can't have that many careers. I can't keep track of all of them. And the first rule once we land will be that _no one_ will see you."

Cress gave the strings one more yank, then propped herself up on her elbows. "Okay."

"And before we get there, you're making me that new ID chip."

"Oh, right."

"So you've got a lot of work cut out for you if you want to get there any time soon."

"Fine." Her excited expression had completely faded.

"What's wrong now?" he asked, trying to hide his annoyance.

She stared at him and those wide oceans of pain were back and it took everything in him not to break her gaze. "You sound like my…captors. Making sure I get the hack jobs done."

Thorne shook his head slowly, uneasily. He thought of her screaming from her room. Indignation flared up inside of him. "That's not what I meant. I need your help, Cress, to fix some things that, well, unfortunately you brought on me. I helped you, didn't I?"

"Not because you wanted to."

"You're right. I didn't want to. You forced me to. Just like you forced me to take you aboard the Rampion or else die in a locked satellite room. You're not the only one who's now stuck somewhere they don't want to be."

Cress's lower lip began to tremble. "I didn't have a choice."

"Well now, neither do I." He looked away from her and flicked some crumbs off the table. "You're making that chip. End of story."


End file.
